


a voice like sugar and a windchime laugh

by orphan_account



Category: Splatoon
Genre: ...is it light? i mean, Biting, Blood, F/F, First Time, First time writing NSFW, Light Masochism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scratching, Tentacles, Xeno, its THERE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 22:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Three is used to the gentle, caring Eight, the one that takes her hand and kisses it gently with nothing but pure adoration in her eyes. She’s used to the Eight that’s soft and sappy, the one that steals her jackets and leaves small notes in her apartment for Three to find later and smile at, the Eight with a voice like sugar and a windchime laugh. But the Eight above her is none of that; the Eight above her is commanding and rough and powerful, looking down at Three with a dark, hungry stare. A few tense moments pass, and then Eight’s lips crash into Three’s own, uncoordinated and messy and hot.@god im sorry





	a voice like sugar and a windchime laugh

Three is used to the gentle, caring Eight, the one that takes her hand and kisses it gently with nothing but pure adoration in her eyes. She’s used to the Eight that’s soft and sappy, the one that steals her jackets and leaves small notes in her apartment for Three to find later and smile at, the Eight with a voice like sugar and a windchime laugh. But the Eight above her is none of that; the Eight above her is commanding and rough and _powerful,_ looking down at Three with a dark, hungry stare. A few tense moments pass, and then Eight’s lips crash into Three’s own, uncoordinated and messy and _hot._

“You’re gorgeous,” she mutters between kisses. Her voice is breathy and low, a hungry murmur. Three catches Eight’s lip with her beak, and she growls, quaking throughout Three until it reaches her very core.

Eight moves away, pressing kisses into Three’s neck. Closer to Three’s collarbone, she starts sucking a hickey into Three’s skin, then briefly stops to gently kiss it. Three’s breath is ragged, with each movement of Eight’s continuing to drive her insane. She assumes Eight’s going to continue sucking at the spot, or maybe move back up to kiss her again, but the sharp edge of Eight’s beak digs into her skin and a choked-out moan claws its way out Three’s throat. Eight hesitates for a moment, briefly analyzing Three’s response. Three doesn’t want to wait for her to analyze anything anymore, and she rasps out a desperate plea for more.

Eight visibly relaxes, nipping at Three’s neck haphazardly. Some bites draw blood, some don’t, but each and every one feels _good_ and Three moans lowly when Eight catches her lips again. Three briefly ruts against her, and then Eight’s hands are fumbling to remove Three’s shirt. She breaks the kiss, opens her mouth to ask a question, but Three chases her mouth, silencing her before she even starts. Her hands intertwine with Eight’s tentacles, holding her there and keeping her there until Three finally pulls away. It takes Three a moment to catch her breath, but when she does, she tells Eight, “I want you.” God, Three wants her so, so _fucking_ much, and the aching throbbing in her pants does nothing to change her mind.

Eight finally gets the idea, and she tugs Three’s shirt off. She throws it somewhere. Three doesn’t really care about its location right about now. She’s more focused on getting Eight out of her clothes. Her shirt’s slipped off, then it’s haphazardly flung across the room, forgotten. Three kisses her again as soon as she’s able to, her hands shooting down to Eight’s waist. Eight responds by grinding roughly against Three’s crotch with a soft gasp.

It’s at this moment when Three decides to cut the shit. She unbuttons Eight’s pants with a little difficulty, feeling Eight’s length thrash against the fabric with each movement. Three briefly prepares herself for whatever’s in store for her as she tugs Eight’s pants down.

Fuck, she’s _soaked._ Positively and completely fucking _soaked._ Her boxers are stained a deep fuchsia, and it’s warm to the touch. Three slips her hand into Eight’s boxers and grabs it, feeling the appendage wrap and squeeze her wrist almost immediately. Eight fucking _trills,_ and holy shit, if Three wasn’t turned on before, she is now.

She pulls her hand out of the wet grip with some effort while Eight whines at the loss of contact. Three smears some of Eight’s bright pink fluids across her chest when she shoves her onto the bed and flips her over. She’s so fucking _beautiful,_ eyes half-lidded as she pants, looking up at Three with a hazy, desperate gaze.

“Please,” she begs, “Please, Three, lemme- Lemme fuck you, please...”

“Soon,” Three tells her, racing to remove her own pants. Eight kisses, biting and nipping at her lips, and then she kisses her again, and again, and again and again. A metallic, salty taste floods her mouth, and she belatedly realizes that it’s her blood that she’s tasting. Maybe it should worry her, but it doesn’t, and she’s soon pressing further into Eight, desperately searching for more. Eight’s hands fumble and bump against Three’s own as she tries to assist her, but soon Three’s length is free and out in the open. There’s another brief struggle to remove Eight’s boxers, but soon it’s all discarded and Three pulls away to try and figure out how the hell she’s supposed to do this.

She could always just _ride_ Eight - it’s not entirely out of the question. But, _fuck,_ now that she sees it, twisting and turning against itself desperately, Three’s not entirely sure she wants to feel it in her. Not right now, at least. The only thing she can think of is the tight grip it had on her wrist and how needily she felt it clutch it, and maybe she could...

“Three,” Eight breathes. “Please...”

She has to line herself up a little, but then she ruts against it and _fuuuuuuuuck._ Eight lets out a loud cry and fucks up against Three’s cock, and _shit,_ that feels _amazing._ She messily meets Three’s lips again, and her beak gnaws and gnashes at her lips so Three moves her hand up Eight’s back and _rakes_ down, which Eight fucking loves because she thrusts up into Three so much fucking _harder_ than before, and Three wants more of that, _please,_ so she starts moving faster. Ultimately, Eight mumbles, “Enough already,” against Three’s lips and they flip one more time, and Three’s so dizzy and hazy with pleasure that she can’t find it within herself to give a shit. Eight’s better at this, anyways, her hips audibly slapping against Three’s, and she moves away from Three’s lips to bite and scrape at her neck, her chest, anything. She just grinds harder against Eight, relishing in the sensation, in the wonderful trilling moans leaving Eight’s lips, in _all_ of it.

Eight’s hand moves to grasp one of Three’s longer tentacles and she finds the sucker towards the tip. Her claw scratches the outside of it before slipping in, and _fuck--_

A shrill cry leaves Three’s lips as she comes, thrusting messily against Eight, fingers curling into her back well beyond the point of drawing blood. That pooling warmth in her stomach releases and she rides it out, loudly repeating Eight’s name over and over and over again. She can’t stop her hips from moving, and it’s fucking overwhelming and _amazing,_ so good that she barely notices Eight’s low groan as she bites down on Three’s neck, _hard._ Three’s already slick stomach gets slicker with each thrust from Eight, copious amounts of thin, fuchsia liquid surging out. It’s blazing, even warmer than the rest of Eight, and it messily spills off her stomach as the sheets soak some of it up.

A few seconds pass, and Eight slowly and shakily gets off Three. She flops down beside her. Eight gingerly takes Three’s hand and gently rubs small circles into it. Three’s entire body felt like lead, barely able to tell up from down, and neither of them say anything for a little bit.

“Fuck...” Three breathes, finally opening her eyes. She turns her head to the side to face Eight, who’s smiling but looks just as winded. “That was... Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. Her eyes drift lower and she laughs quietly. “Oh, um... Sorry.”

“Huh?” Three blinks. “What..?”

“... I, um... Kind of made a mess,” Eight says with a small laugh. Three looks down at her stomach. Pretty much all of it is pink, with only a thin rope of white in the middle. “Um, do... Do you wanna go shower, or something? I can get a bath ready...”

“No,” Three mumbles, closing her eyes again. “I’m fucking tired.”

“Won’t it be all gross when it dries?” Mh... Fair point.

“Five minutes, then?” she offers, and Eight laughs her windchime laugh Three’s always loved.

“... Okay,” she agrees. “Five minutes.”

“Thank you,” Three mumbles, and Eight hums softly. A few seconds pass, and Three sleepily murmurs, “... I love you.”

“I love you too,” she thinks she hears Eight reply with a yawn, but Three’s asleep before she can truly be sure.


End file.
